


when retreat is not an option and remorse just ain't your style

by your_bespoke_psychopath



Category: Doctor Who (2005), James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Crack, Gen, I also make fun of Bond. but only a little bit. don't worry - we're all friends here., Timey-Wimey, crack and aliens and paradoxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_bespoke_psychopath/pseuds/your_bespoke_psychopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond doesn't need anyone's help when it comes to saving the world. He can manage on his own, thank you very much. Except this time, he really can't.<br/>Because this time, he has more than just his planet to save. It's so good that a certain curly-haired archaeologist is ready to help him out, isn't it?<br/>This time, Bond is definitely shaken. And maybe even a little stirred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. oh wouldn't you love to be my partner in crime

**Author's Note:**

> You know how sometimes you talk with a friend and they say something that gives you An Idea? (yes, capitals letters are required). Sometimes it's an absolutely random sentence, said in the midst of a fandom-colliding conversation. For me the sentence 'Hey, you know what I would ship? Craig's Bond and River.'  
> And this is how this fic happened. 'Why Craig's Bond?', I can hear some of you asking. 'Because of 'Moll Flanders.' Yes. That's the only reason.
> 
> Anyway: here is the fic. I hope you'll enjoy it, at least a bit /fingers crossed. Comments would be nice?
> 
> (Timelines-wise: Bond is pre-Skyfall (no spoilers for the movie. This or any Bond movie actually). As far as River is concerned: past 'ToTA'/'FaS', but before 'TATM'. No major spoilers for anything.  
> But there's a lot of not-so-subtle 'Doctor Who' and 'Sherlock' references. Story's and chapter's titles come from 'Another perfect catastrophe' by Firewater.)

When he meets her for the first time, he’s dying from boredom at some work-related ball. He didn’t want to come here, because stuffy atmosphere and discussing politics with corrupted politicians – it’s not his idea of fun, but M made it clear that he has to show up. (‘You better be there or I will rip your legs from that 007 ass of yours.’) It seems that the rich and mighty like to know who takes care of their safety. Or should he say the safety of the great Great Britain? That’s what in his job description, but over the years he’s learnt that most of the time he’s required to protect the ruthless but powerful men and their business. This has little to do with ordinary people.

So here he is – sitting at a bar, feeling miserable and wondering when and how he can disappear without anyone noticing. He shook all the hands he was supposed to shake, he got patted on his back, words of praise have been sung, but he cannot help but feel bitter about the whole thing. He knows that as long as he’s good at what he does, he’ll be appreciated. If he slips up, no one will help him to get up, he’ll be written down as yet another brilliant but dispensable agent.

He’s sipping on his drink, considering sneaking out through the back door, when she enters the room. And wow. It seems like the whole ballroom goes quiet – quieter – for a second. There is something about this woman (a very attractive woman, he notes, a woman who is wearing a deep blue evening dress, a woman with curly hair that seems to live a life on its own) that makes everyone pay attention to her. She on the other hand, pays attention to no one, but him. She swaggers through the room like she owns it, her eyes trained at him all the time. She stops at the bar and sits at a stool next to his, orders a martini (‘shaken, not stirred’ she says to the barman, her voice low and alluring) and his interest in her peaks even more.

\- And what is a woman like you doing at such a dreadful party? – he asks her, before he can stop himself (or at least come up with something more clever. And more charming. He blames it on the fact that he’s spent the last few hours with the most boring people in the country.) Still, this cheesy pick up line makes her grin and he thinks that maybe coming to this party wasn’t such a bad idea.

\- Oh, I am just a friendly messenger – she responds and her smile widens. She hands him a small piece of paper and puts her untouched martini before him. – Enjoy – she says with a wink.

Just when he opens his mouth to respond, he hears a strange sound, unlike anything he’s ever heard. She hears it too and the noise means something to her, because she gets up and turns her head towards the door.

\- Have to go. My ride is here. – she makes a few steps towards the exit before turning around – Oh. And I am really sorry about your jaw.

Before he has a chance to ask ‘what the hell do you mean?’, she’s gone and the strange noise can be heard again. He looks at the card she gave him: there’s a date and an address written on it. It means absolutely nothing to him. He shrugs and takes a sip of the martini she left him. It’s perfect.

\- Gorgeous and slightly bonkers – he says after a while. – Well. Isn’t it story of my life?

_xxx_

When he meets her for the second time, two months later, she makes him breathless.

Literally.

It’s 1am and he’s sneaking through dark corridors of MassArms Inc. – the biggest producer of weapons in the UK. For the past two months, MI6 has been investigating every move of this company. On the outside it seems that nothing is wrong: the owner is known and respectable member of society, he often invited to be a part of public discussions on weaponry and war, his company pays taxes on time, passes all the controls with flying colours.

The story looks a bit different on the inside. It seems that the owner is quite friendly with Russian mob (bad), Chinese and North Korean governments (even worse). The fact that he’s friendly with them is not a crime per se, but it definitely needs to be looked in to. Just to be on the safe side.

So here he is: dressed in black, with a gun strapped to his thigh, moving through the dark corridors of MassArms. He’s supposed to extract data from the company president’s computer – piece of cake, shouldn’t take more than 2 minutes, but once he enters the office, he knows that the job is not so easy anymore. Someone already is in the office and that someone is fiddling with the very computer he was ordered to fiddle with. He quietly comes closer, takes a good look at the person hunched over the computer and damn, it’s her. The woman from the party. He can recognise her even though she’s dressed in a black catsuit and her hair is piled on top of her head in a tight bun.

\- What are you doing... – he can’t even finish the sentence, because she turns around quickly and kicks him in the stomach. The kick is so hard that for a second the air leaves his lungs and he cannot catch his breath. And she doesn’t even give him a chance to straighten up and defend himself, she just punches him. And damn, the punch is even worse that the kick. It’s so hard and painful that if he feels his eyes water (later he’ll deny that. He did not cry after being punched. He’s too manly for that. His eyes filled with tears, because the air in the office was dry.)

Suddenly the alarm starts blaring, the office is terribly bright as all the lights get turned on and he can hear guards running in their direction. She must hear them to, because she snatches an usb drive from the pc and moves towards the window. She grabs the nearest chair and smashes the glass with it. He can only stare at her, mouth slightly open, as she puts one leg on the window still. She turns around, winks at him and no, there is no way she’s going too...

She jumps.

They’re on the 24th floor.

He has no time to wonder how on earth she’s planning to survive it, because the sound of angry guards is closer and closer, and he really needs to get out of here. Preferably, without having to jump out of a window.

4 hours later, he’s in his apartment (he had to get debriefed by his boss. M apparently couldn’t understand that there was someone else there. A woman. A woman who jumped from a window. With the data he had been ordered to get. He had to repeat that part a few times). His jaw is pounding like crazy, his skin feels tender and he can already see a dark bruise forming there. ‘I am really sorry about your jaw’ - the words suddenly pop into his mind. And then something clicks in his head and he’s digging through the stack of papers laying on his desk. He finds it after a few minutes: the card she handed him on that party. He checks and yes, his memory did not play tricks on him: there is today’s date on the card. And right next to it, there’s the address of MassArms Inc.

 _Oh_.

_xxx_

When he meets her for the third time, three days later, his jaw still hurts.

He enters M’s office (she wants to discuss ‘the MassArms fiasco’. Again. Like they didn’t spend the last 72 hours going over it again and again.) and even though she is sitting with her back to him, he recognises her. That’s her: the curly haired monster with a mean right hook. Who is she? Why is she here? What is she doing here? How did she get here? Was she some kind of a test that he failed? Instead of answers, he gets a stern look from his boss.

\- It’s really nice of you to finally join us, James – she utters in a tone that he’d learned to interpret as ‘you better behave’. At the mention of his name, the wool-headed bane of his existence (he is not over-dramatic, he just states the truth), turns around. And damn her – she’s wearing an annoying, know-it-all grin on her lips. He doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it at all. It’s usually the other way around: he’s the one with all the info and others walk clueless.

\- Good morning – the she-monster says. She looks like she’s enjoying the whole situation and his lack of understanding.

\- You punched me – he says in an accusing tone. This much for ‘good morning’. But his charm and politeness left the building 3 days ago. It would seem that she managed to beat them out of him. So it is all her fault, really.

\- Yes, I did – she responds, with no signs of remorse.

\- But why did you do that? Why were you there? And how-

\- James. – M interrupts him – Can you just stop talking? Just sit down, please.

He wants to say that there is no way that he will sit down, that he demands some explanation, that for the last few days his jaw throbbed with pain like a crazy motherfucker and that people looked at his bruise and he knew that they laughed at him – he wants to say it all, but he looks at his boss and notices how tired and weary, how unlike herself she looks. And now he knows that this – whatever it is – is serious. So he sits down, next to his blonde tormenter. M takes a deep breath and starts talking.

40 minutes later he feels a massive headache coming. But he also feels that this whole thing is one giant joke. It cannot be true. It’s impossible.

\- It’s ridiculous – he finally says and looks at his boss – You know it is, right? She’s obviously making it all up. Come on, you know as well as I do that this story just can’t be true. Time travel? Really? What’s next? Members of the government are aliens?

He hears a soft sigh on his right, so he turns his head in that direction, just to see the look on the face of the woman who made an idiot out of him. She isn’t looking at him, her head is down and she’s touching the wristband she’s wearing. He wants to say something smart, just to ridicule her and all these crazy theories she brought with herself, but he doesn’t have time, because she disappears in a cloud of electricity and smoke.

Wait. What? How could she disappear?

The moment he wants to ask this question, she reappears. This time on his left. She’s holding ‘Newsweek’ in her hand and she drops is on his lap. He picks it up, looks at the cover and is about to ask her what the hell is she trying to achieve here and then he notices.

Shit.

This ‘Newsweek’ is from the next week. How is that...

\- Now, that we’re done with the whole ‘time travel is not possible’ bit... How do you feel about saving the world, Mr. Bond? – she says and he can only stare at her. Thoughts are running through his head, and what if it’s all true? Can it be true? The logical part of his brain tells him that there is no way in hell that it’s real. But his eyes tell him a different thing: he just saw this woman disappear and appear, in a span of a few seconds, with a newspaper from next week. This has to count for something. He’s lost and confused, and he cannot think about anything constructive to say, so he blurts the first question that comes to his mind:

\- What’s your name? – and the second these words leave his mouth, he regrets them. Because the minx standing before him smirks and he knows that a smirk like this cannot mean anything good for him.

\- Song. – she extends her hand in his direction – River Song.

He hears his M letting out a little giggle and he feels himself blush. Oh, he hates that River Song.

He hates her.

_xxx_

An hour (and much more confusion) later, he and River are on their way to Q’s laboratory. His head is swimming with all the information River dropped on them. Time travel and other galaxies, aliens and something about an intergalactic war they have to stop. Yes, this pretty sums up the conversation they just had.

He cannot help but be intrigued and a little intimidated by this woman. She shows up out of nowhere, snags things he was supposed to snag, punches him... He touches his cheek and slightly grimaces at the unpleasant sensation. That reminds him.

\- When I met you for the first time – he begins.

\- 3 days ago. Yes. What about it? – she asks him with a raised eyebrow.

\- No, not 3 days ago. For the first time. 2 months ago. At that party. You were wearing that blue dress and you-

\- Spoilers! Don’t say anything else. It hasn’t happened for me yet.

\- Of course it happened! 2 months ago, I was sitting at the bar and you came to me and-

\- Time travel, remember? Some things can happen in a different order for me than they do – did – for you. I know it may be hard to grasp now, but you’ll get it – she explains patiently and he thinks that it’s not the first time she has this kind of a talk.

\- So, the first time we met, you punched me?

\- Well... First time for you. But yes. – she laughs – Sorry, I am rubbish when it comes to first meetings. Believe me.

He can’t ask her what she means by it, because they’re before the door leading to Q’s cave.

\- Q is quite... specific – he tells her – So don’t feel offended when he’s grumpy. Or not friendly.

With these words he opens the door and lets her in. She’s probably the first person who is not impressed by Q’s laboratory. She eyes all the equipment that is laid out on the tables and hanged on the walls, but nothing seems to phase her. She looks like she has already seen all of it and much, _much_ more. There’s a loud ‘bang’, swearing and Q finally appears.

\- Oh! James! – Q exclaims - So nice to finally see you. I have something that may interest you, let me just... And who is your charming friend?

River smiles, introduces herself and the way Q’s face brightens tells him that he lost this battle too.

Two hours later, Q is in love and ready to propose to River bloody Song.

He spent that time listening to these two talking about guns, guns and guns. And then some more about guns. How didn’t he go insane – he has no idea. River showed Q her sonic blaster – or however this thing is called – and he is sure that the old man has never looked so happy.

They’re leaving with all the things that Q provided them with. River is leaving with 2 revolvers, one rifle, a machine pistol and an automatic shotgun. (She considered taking a flamethrower for a second. A flamethrower. Once again, he wonders – who on earth is she?) He is leaving with a pen. A pen. And not a kind of pen that can explode and destroy a small warehouse in the process. No. The only thing this pen does – it writes. And to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t even given  the pen. He nicked it from Q’s desk, when the old man was starry eyed over River.

Years of friendship, years of bonding over gadgets and it takes one woman to ruin it all.

Walking behind River, seeing the rifle placed on her back, taunting him – he thinks it’ll be the hardest mission ever.

_xxx_

They’re on a rooftop of one of the tallest skyscrapers in Beijing. Unfortunately, they’re not there to admire the view. And even if they were, he wouldn’t be doing it. As it turns out, he is afraid of heights. 100 floors and 1640 feet can do that to anyone, even to him.

Once again he wonders how on earth did they end here.

Just a few hours ago there were in England, good and old, and slightly damp England. England, where they don’t build buildings with 100 floors. Right now, they’re on top of hell. Or rather the hell will break loose soon. Or maybe it just did?

On their flight to China, River was explaining to him – a few times, very carefully – the whole problem. The MassArms is owned a Chinese gentleman, known as Mr. Xing (he snorted when he heard the name. In England this man would be called Mr. Smith). But according to River, Mr. Xing is not human. Well, obviously – a person who (illegally) trades weapons and then sends them gods know where, cannot be voted as a moral human being. But it’s not what she meant. River Songs said that Mr. Xing is an alien. Disguised as a human being, trying to get enough arms and start an intergalactic war.

It sounds even more insane when he repeats that in his head.

\- So how is it that no one knows about it? I am pretty sure that people would react if they noticed an alien running their work place. – he asked her then.

\- Perception filter – she said like it was the most obvious thing in the entire universe – Human minds are easy to fool. Throw a simple perception shield, add power and money – and you don’t see things for what they really are.

He wanted to tell her right then that she’s wrong, that some humans see the world exactly as it is, that some human (for example him) are brilliant, but a thought pops into his head.

\- Wait. What do you mean by ‘you don’t see things’? If things are as you say they are, you shouldn’t notice and know all these things. You’re a human too, right? You are?

The only response he got from her was that annoying and ever mysterious smirk of hers that he had already learnt to hate. She dropped the subject and focused on explaining her plan to him. They were supposed to sneak into Xing's company, find out what is produced there, snag info about Mr. Xing business partners and look for – he can’t believe that this one actually made it to the list – signs of _extraterrestrial technology._

Everything was going smoothly – they got into the building unnoticed, they successfully downloaded all the contact information from Mr. Xing computer’s hard drive and they found the production hall. And he wasn’t expecting what he saw. Instead of rows and rows of tables, with people assembling guns, rifles and all kind of weaponry, there were rows of giant cauldrons with a strange white substance in them. River swore and he knew that this discovery cannot mean anything good. 

\- Autons – she whispered – Of course. That makes perfect sense. 

Maybe it made perfect sense to her, but he was lost. He was about to ask her what it meant, what these Autons are, but he wasn’t given a chance, as all the door opened with a loud bang and heavy armed guards entered the hall. And the shooting began. He had to admit – River is probably the best shot he has ever seen. He didn’t even touch his gun and she already got a few of the guards down. But for every guard she shot, 3 new seemed to emerge. He looked around and spotted a closed door, the only one that wasn’t busted open by angry soldiers. That was it, that was their chance to escape. He grabbed her hand and shouted ‘run!’ to her. She listened to him, thank gods. They reached the door - which was open, he was never more relieved – and ran straight to a staircase (memorising building schematics is always a good idea, he has learned that much during his career as a spy. He’d learned it during his first mission actually, when instead of a control room of a Russian military base he’d ended up in a toilet. An occupied toilet.) Their journey to the roof was a blur of running, trying to catch breath and shooting. Shooting was done mostly by River. (He has no idea how is that even possible, but she never missed. Not a single shot.) 

They finally reach the door leading to the roof and run through them. When he tries to calm his racing heart and catch some air into his lungs, River takes out something a strange-looking device from her coat. She places it on the door –  it’s oval and flat and it seems to glue itself to the door. Whatever it is, he can see it’s working – the guards are behind the door, but they cannot open it. They kick, they shout and they shoot at it – but it remains locked. ‘This much, this good’ he thinks. 

\- Okay, it should stop them for a minute – she says – Now. Let’s see... 

She goes to the edge of the roof and looks down. He follows her and does the same thing, and holy bollocks. Does this building really has to be this tall? Do they really need to be here? And the most important question now – how will they get out of here without getting killed by all these guards waiting for them? He’s about to ask her this very question when she screams to him over heavy blowing wind. 

\- Give me a pen! 

\- What? – he must have heard wrong. No one in their right mind would ask for a pen in such a situation. 

\- A pen! Give me a pen! – she repeats, a little less patient now. 

\- Are you insane? A pen? What are you planning to do, write our obituaries? 

\- Give. me. a. pen. – she says in a tone that makes him look for that damn pen. 

He finally finds it and hands it to her – the very pen Q gave him. For a second he hopes that maybe it’s not just a pen, that maybe it’s a super hero amongst pens and that it’ll save them. 

But no. 

It’s just a pen and River uses it to write some numbers on a blank piece of paper. He wants to tell her that this is not a good time to solve math problems or play sudoku, but she hands him back his pen and places the piece of paper (it’s blank again, he notices) in the back pocket of her trousers. 

\- Okay, time to get out of here – she says and he cannot agree more, as the kicking on the door gets stronger and louder. 

\- So, how are we going to get out of here? – he asks her – There’s no way out of here. 

\- There’s always a way out – she answers with a smile – Jump. 

\- What?! – he expected everything, but not this. She cannot be serious. 

\- Jump! 

\- Are you insane? This is suicide! You cannot possibly think that I will jump from this roof! This is madness! 

\- Shut up! Just trust me, it’ll be fine! 

\- Trust you? Trust you! I have no reasons to trust you! You’re absolutely mad and now we will die here and it will be your- 

She doesn’t let him finish his speech. She punches him (it hurts as much as it hurt the first time) and then she pushes him. He tries to catch his balance, but he fails. The last thing he notices before falling is that the door burst open and a small army of angry men starts running towards them, and River getting ready to jump. 

Then he’s falling down. Fast. 

Very fast. 

The air is icy cold around him and he wonders how much it’ll hurt once he hits the pavement. ‘That’s it’ he thinks, ‘the great agent will die splashed on a Chinese street. This is just not fair. And I’ll look even worse than that fake detective dude who jumped from Bart’s hospital.’ He starts wondering how his funeral will look like, how many people will turn up, how many sobbing and dressed in tight black dresses women will be there. Will some of them confess their undying love for him? Say that he’d ruined all other men for them? Will they go into the nunnery? 

He sees River falling next to him, a smile on her face, like she doesn’t care that in a few seconds they will meet their end. If he could – if they weren’t falling from a freaking skyscraper – he would strangle her. The second she appeared in his life, it turned into a pile of insanity. And now they’re going to die, both of them, and it’s all because of her. 

There’s a flash of blue somewhere on his left, swish of warm air and suddenly – he’s not falling anymore. He lands (rather gracelessly) on  his ass and for a few seconds he’s afraid to open his eyes and see what kind of trouble he’s in this time. On one hand, they’re not splashed on the cold pavement. On the other hand, he had no idea where he landed. It can be anywhere. He only hopes that River is with him, so she can share his potential misery. 

\- Hello, sweetie – he hears her saying somewhere near him. Is she talking to him? Why is she calling him ‘sweetie’? He opens his eyes and closes them just the same second. 

_This cannot be right._

This is not possible. 

He opens his eyes again and shit. He should have kept them closed. He is in a strange room, a giant room filled with bright lights, a room that has a staircase leading upstairs. No wait, there are more stairs, leading to various parts of wherever they are. If that’s what Hell is like, then it’s trippy as... hell. 

\- River! – a scolding voice interrupts his thoughts - You cannot keep doing that! You just cannot keep on throwing yourself from buildings and counting on me to catch you! 

He whips his head around, to see the source of this voice. And it seems that the world is quite keen on surprising him today, because he most certainly wasn’t expecting to see someone like the man standing a few feet from him. The guy is tall and lanky, with floppy brown hair. Right now, he’s throwing his arms in the air and it looks like his limbs are about to fall away from his body. And he’s wearing a tweed jacket. And a bowtie. 

A bowtie. 

What kind of a person wears a bowtie? A madman, most certainly. Great. So he’s in a company of a madwoman and a madman. Will the British Government pay him extra for this?

\- But sweetie, you are always there to catch me, – he hears River’s amused response. She’s standing next to The Tweed Guy, so close that she’s practically pressed against him. He doesn’t seem to mind it though – even though he’s trying to look angry, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face.

\- So, Doctor Song. Where are we then? – asks the guy, not moving an inch from River.

What does he mean, where are they? They’re in some bloody giant room that is situated in an even bigger room, where everything is shiny and glowing. There’s also a strange purring noise coming from the centre of the room, and no, the noise is not coming from River or from the Bow Tie Guy. Bless gods for small mercies. So this is where they are. And maybe, just maybe, if the Tweed Guy stopped looking at River with this puppy dog expression and looked around, he’d see that too.

\- Well, we’ve done Byzantium. I always forget how adorable you were that young. – River says with a smirk.

Oh okay, so it wasn’t a question about their current location. Fine. How was he supposed to know that?

\- And we’ve done the Mag’natine as well. – River continues. – Where are we for you, sweetie?

\- Area 52 ages ago. Mag’natine last week. – says the guy with a smirk.

\- Oh, isn’t that just nice? – responds River with a matching grin. – Parents?

\- Dropped them off. They were going on about their jobs and electricity bills. All the humany-wumany stuff. Boring!

\- Honey, if I remember correctly, you are quite fond of some humany-womany stuff. – River says, the suggestion in her voice loud and clear.

Okay, time to stop that, that- that shameless flirting. He doesn’t have – nor want – to watch this. They don’t pay him this much to sit through it. He forces himself to sit up and coughs (it might sound a bit more like a squeak, even in his own ears) to remind them that he is also there. The sound makes them turn their heads and look into his direction. They both look a bit stunned, surprised that someone else is here as well. The Tweed Guy at least has the decency to look flustered and a bit embarrassed about the whole situation. He fixes his bowtie and straightens lapels of his jacket, almost managing to hit River with his flailing limbs in the process.

\- Oh, hello – he says and makes his way towards him. – I’m the Doctor. And you are?

Before he has a chance to introduce himself and make the right impression, River speaks up.

\- It’s Bond. James Bond. – she says clearly amused. To hell with her.

\- Bond? That’s kind of an unusual first name. – the Doctor frowns a bit and looks at him. – But then again, I’ve once met this girl, lovely thing, bright and funny. The only problem was her name, it was Rkjlsdehgsmvaswkt. I think she was from Iceland. Well, not this Iceland of course, the New New New New New New Iceland. See, parents get a bit more imaginative in the future. You should see the names they give to their pets! And that’s only Earth! There are even more cases like that in the universe, for example, the planet of Exhra-

\- Sweetie, can you please stop talking for a second and help Mr. Bond up? – says River, interrupting the stream of nonsense coming out of the Doctor’s mouth. He’ll have to thank her for that later. Or not.

Suddenly, he feels that he’s being yanked up, forced to stand on his feet. The Doctor – what kind of a name is that anyway? – pats along his arms and shoulders, dusting off the invisible dirt from his clothes.

\- There you go, all better, huh? – he says, beaming. – Now, you’re a friend of River’s, right? What will you say to a small trip? Space Vegas? The Kacharji? No, forget that, no one ever goes there, because it’s boring. Oh, I know, how about Ly-staria, the planet of seven suns? The weather is great and they have this great amusement park, amazing rides, and there’s a pet zoo, with all the animals species from all around the universe! Or Atra-pyila, the asteroid in the 28th century. You people did a pretty good job with it, I have to admit. There’s always the P’yrtaf, with their space crabs and-

\- Actually, sweetie – says River soothingly – we’re kind of busy at the moment.

\- Oh. Fine.– the guy’s smile dies and  turns abruptly to face River, his gangly arms go in motion again. Unfortunately, he’s not as quick as River is and one of Doctor’s arm hits him in the stomach. – Sorry! Busy with what exactly?

Now Doctor is glaring suspiciously at River and him and lords, he cannot think that River has an affair with him? The guy is clearly a nut case, he’s going to cut him into pieces and put him in a freezer and smash his carcass with a hammer.

\- You know, the usual stuff. – River answers. – A war to stop, weapons to destroy, universe to save.

\- I can help! I am an excellent help! – the Doctor squeaks and jumps a bit. – Come on, River. We get this thing solved in 10 minutes and then we’ll go to a proper adventure. How about that?

\- Yes, that would be lovely, honey. But you can’t help me this time.

\- Of course I can! I can always help you! I want to help you. Just tell em what it is and I’ll-

\- No, sweetie. The Church doesn’t want you to help me this time. Not after Byzantium.

The Church? What Church? The Church of England?

Or are they members of some mysterious sect for nutters?

\- They don’t have to know anything – The Doctor mutters under his breath while fiddling with some levers on the console that is place in the middle of the room. What does it even do?

\- But they will know, sweetie. And no, don’t touch anything. I am flying her, I know where we need to be and I do not want any surprises this time, okay?

Flying? Her? What?

The Doctor mumbles something that sounds like ‘I can fly her perfectly well, thank you very much’, but River is not paying any attention to him. She’s fully focused on the various buttons and levers on the console, and wait a minute, is that a typing machine there?

\- How did you two meet? – Doctor’s voice startles him. When did he come so close? – Are you her friend from prison? Or are you one of the Clerics? You don’t look like one, but you know, even the Church changes with time.

Clerics? Who are clerics?

No, wait. Rewind and replay: prison? Prison? What. The. Hell. Does M know about it? Did she know it when she assigned this crazy woman to work with him? A little warning would be nice!

The Doctor looks at him expectantly, rocking slightly on his feet. Okay, now, he has to keep calm and remember that he’s dealing with a crazy person. A crazy person who wears a tweed jacket and a bow tie. This may be his most dangerous mission yet. And how do you even explain how he and River met? It’s complicated and the guy doesn’t look like he could understand it.

\- She punched me and then jumped out of a window – he blurts out.

Great. The Doctor will never believe that. To his surprise the man next to him giggles. _Giggles_.

\- She loves doing that. Both punching and jumping from buildings. Not that fond of punching, I must say. It was your first meeting with her, right?

He nods.

\- You’re lucky then. When she first met me, she tried to kill me. And she actually succeeded. – the Doctor straightens his bow tie and looks fondly at River. – But before that she’d wanted to marry me. See, I never really understood all these mixed signals.

Oh-kay. As soon as he sees M he will force her to put a stop to that.

\- Okay sweetie, you can stop gossiping now. - River says in an amused voice. - We landed. Mister Bond and I have a meeting to attend. Off you go, Mr. Bond, step outside.

River points at the door behind him. Okay, so this is his chance, he thinks as he goes to the door. Whatever is behind them, he starts running.

He'll be fine as long as he's away from these nuts. He puts his hands on the door knobs, preparing himself for the sight that night await him, he forces the knobs down, he pushes and...

Fuck. So it finally happened. Years of being kicked on the head and smacked about, years of car accidents, all the injuries over all these years of service. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He finally lost the plot. Because this simply cannot be true. He's standing right in front of the bloody Big Ben. And it simply cannot be possible if you consider that a few minutes ago he was in china. Right now he's in London. It’s a chilly evening. And it's drizzling.

Okay, fine. This he can handle. What really fucks with his head is the fact that he stepped out of a police phone box. A bloody police box from the 60's. This is impossible. This box would never be able to contain the inside, it just- he sticks his head back in the box. Yes, the giant room is still there. River is looking at him, an eyebrow raised and mischief in her eyes.

\- Anything you want to say, Mr. Bond? - she asks him.

Oh yes.

\- Is it Russian technology? - he looks at The Doctor. – Because if it is and the British Government is not aware of that, I am bound to inform them about it and take you both into the custody-

\- What? - both River and the doctor squeak at the same time. Apparently it's not the reaction they expected.

\- No, it is not Russian! Why would it be Russian?! They won't achieve this level of advancement until- well, they'll never reach this level. - The Doctor answers, looking both offended and shocked.

\- Okay Mr. Bond, as much as I enjoy your confusion about the origin of the TARDIS, we really have a meeting. With your boss.

His boss. Oh, he's never felt so much joy thinking about meeting M like he does now. He closes his mouth - he hasn't realised he had it opened, coughs and turns towards River.

\- Okay, let's go - he says and cannot help but feel slightly smug that she looks a bit surprised that he managed to recover so quickly.

\- Lead the way then - she says as she turns around to The Doctor. - And you stay out of trouble, dear. The doctor says something he doesn't catch, but it makes River laugh.

With one last handshake from The Doctor and 'goodbye, Bond' shouted at him, the door to the box close. He feels River nudging him with her elbow.

\- You watch now - she says with a fond smile. There's a weird but eerily similar noise and the box is slowly starting to disappear from his eyes. It takes a few seconds and it is completely gone. He cannot help, but touch the air where the blue box had been just seconds ago. It is most certainly not there. He gulps.

\- Ready and eager to talk with your boss? - River asks him in a teasing tone.

Oh. You have no bloody idea.


	2. woke up this morning, got a blue moon in your eyes

The meeting with M doesn’t go anywhere near how he planned and pictured it. But when has it gone that way?

When they arrived at the headquarter, M was already waiting for them. He had to make do with River’s short ‘I sent her a message’ when he asks how M knew about their arrival. Now they’re sitting in her office, listening to River debriefing their mission and explaining what they found there and what it means. With her every sentence, M looks more and more distraught and he cannot blame her for that. The information River was dumping on them for the last hour or so, all these facts and details, the possible results and consequences she’s listing – they make his head swim and settle heavily in his stomach. And the fact that River seems to be a bit insane doesn’t quell his concern.

So fine. Maybe she’s right. Maybe she’s telling the truth and the Autons are killing machines that can perfectly imitate people, and who can be activated at any given time and send on a killing spree. Maybe they can be sent to other planets and start wars on behalf of the Earth. That part is definitely not good.

But you also have to consider that she may be absolutely and completely crazy. Yes, he saw everything she’s talking about with his own eyes, but he didn’t understand what he saw. He still doesn’t fully grasp it. She could be lying through her teeth and neither M nor him would know any better. Acting on her information and would have disastrous effects.

As disastrous as not acting on them if they are true. Ah, what a perfect lose/lose situation to be in. Still, he has to tell M about his doubts about River. Surely, she won’t force him to work with this lunatic? Okay, she would do that. But she wouldn’t trust a complete lunatic, would she? Not with so much at stake. Now, the only thing he has to do is to convince her that River cannot be trusted and that she shouldn’t work with them.

Piece of cake.

When River is done with mentioning all the possible details of every action that can take and stands up, looking at him, expecting him to follow her like a puppy, he shakes his head and says:

\- I want to talk with M. In private, if you don’t mind. – he adds after a few seconds. She nods, already heading towards the door and saying ‘I’ll wait for you outside’ over her shoulder. When the door behind closes with a quiet click, he finally lets himself relax.

Which, in the hindsight was his first mistake.

M doesn’t say anything, she is simply looking at him, interested but slightly puzzled. It’s obvious that she’s not going to make it easy for him and ask him what it is he wants to talk about. Fine.

\- I do not want to work with her. - There. He said it. Nothing better than start with a bang.

M’s reaction is nothing he expected. He anticipated some shouting. Calling him an idiot. He expected her to telling him to shut up, man up and do his job, because that’s what he’s paid for, not stating his preferences.

But M’s reaction is nothing like that. She merely raised her eyebrow and presses a button on her office phone. Never before a simple gesture like that has made him feel so anxious.

\- Listen, I have my reasons for not wanting to work with her and I can.. - he wants to explain, but she puts a finger to her mouth and murmurs ‘hush’. Whoever is on the opposite end of the phone, speaks up.

\- Yes, Ma’am?

\- Claire? – oh, so she’s calling her assistant. Maybe she wants to ask for some tea. It’d be nice. – Please, call Mr. Holmes for me. If he’s not still at his office, please, try his home.

\- Yes, Ma’am. – the polite voice answers and hangs up.

Wait.

Mycroft Holmes? This is definitely not good. Why would she need to calm him?

\- Now, all those reasons for not wanting to work with River Song – now it’s your time to rehearse them. You’re going to say them to Mycroft Holmes in just a few minutes. If I were you, I’d try to make them convincing. – M says, her face perfectly blank and devoid of emotions.

\- Is it really necessary to call Holmes? I mean, it’s not that much of a deal. – damn her. Damn her to hell, her and her little tricks. Because she knows as well as he does that there’s no way in hell anyone could use a ‘I do not want’ as an argument in a conversation with Mycroft Holmes.

She merely shrugs and the phone on her desk rings. She presses the loudspeaker button and answers it with a short ‘yes’.

\- Ma’am, I am afraid that Mr. Holmes is unavailable at this moment. – Claire the Assistant says. Bless her, the bearer of wonderful news! – Should I try his private number?

There’s a brief moment of loaded silence, when M looks at him, mutely asking him a question he already knows the answer to. He shakes his head. No, Claire, there’s no reason you should try calling Mycroft Holmes’ private number, thank you very much.

\- No, thank you. – M answers her with a satisfied smile on her lips. The line goes silent and she turns in her chair a bit, facing him. – Okay, 007. Care to tell me what this whole ‘I do not want to work with her’ drama is about?

And he tells her. He tells her how reckless and bloody stubborn River is. How she keeps him in the dark about this whole situation. How she enjoys having the upper hand in this whole affair. He also mentions – or elaborates, depends how you look at it – on how bloody insane and crazy she is. He says she’s bloody smug and too full of herself for her own good. He adds that you cannot surely trust a person like that, can you?

He looks at M and for the first time in forever, he sees her truly confused. It was not a reaction he’s been hoping for, but he’ll take what he can.

\- Wait. – she starts, her voice a bit hesitant. – You’re telling me that you do not want to work with River, because she’s the female version of you?

\- What? – he cannot help but shout. – This is not why- And I am not, I am not-

\- Reckless? – says M. – Smug? So full of yourself that I want to punch your bloody face?

\- Listen. – he interrupts her. – River and I have nothing in common, we are absolutely-

\- The same. Except she has better hair. And Q likes her more than he’s ever liked you.

Okay. This one hurt.

\- Now, now. Do not pout, 007. It’s not becoming on you. – M says in her usual, matter-of-fact tone. – You were paired with Doctor Song for a reasons. We believed that you’ll work well together. So... Do not disappoint us.

‘Or I’ll have your balls’ – this one gets unsaid, but the message – although unspoken - is loud and clear.

\- Now, excuse me, but I have some work to do. – says M and just like that the conversation is over. He gets up from his chair, feeling like a chastised pupil. He walks slowly to the door, knowing too well what – or rather who – will wait for him outside. He’s about to open it and step outside when M speaks one more time.

\- Oh. And 007... Try not to sleep with her. This one may actually kill you if you mess with her.

He doesn’t even have to turn around to picture the smirk on her face.

\- Don’t worry about that. – he replies with resentment. – It’s not going to happen.

\- Yes, but which part? – comes back an amused retort.

He doesn’t even bother with a reply this time.

xxx

Next morning he wakes up in his bed and for the briefest of moments he thinks – hopes – that the whole bloody thing with aliens and River is a figment of his overactive imagination. That is was all a dream. Unfortunately, the ache in his jaw – where River punched him. Twice! - reminds him that it is all very, very real.

After yesterday’s meeting with M, when he joined River on the corridor, she simply patted his shoulder, told him to go home and get some rest. She said that she’ll meet him tomorrow and explain the situation to him, but that right now she has to take care of some things and prepare the ground for their next move. He didn’t even have a chance to ask her where they’re going to meet, when she punched some keys on the device on her wrist and disappeared in front of his eyes.

He went back home and fell straight into bed, feeling more exhausted that he’s ever felt. Now, after a night of sleep, some things begin to look clearer. One: he has no choice but to work with River. It doesn’t make him happy, but apparently it makes M happy – as happy as she can be anyway – so he really has nothing to say in this. Two: River Song is not here at the moment, so he can relax and try to come up with some plan how to deal with her. Three: he’ll do it after the shower.

He’s about to get out of the bed, when an annoyingly familiar voice says:

\- If I were you, I’d not get out of there. Unless you’re wearing something underneath the sheets.

Damn her, damn her, damn her. He turns his head and there she is – sitting in his favourite armchair, looking at him with an amused glint in her eyes.

\- Or should maybe I should’ve said: ‘get out of there if you’re not wearing anything’? – she says, a smile lifting a corner of her mouth.

Of course he’s not wearing anything underneath.

\- What are you doing here? – he asks, because for now he doesn’t want to think how to get out the bed without giving her an eyeful. It’s not that he is shy about his body, he is not, it’s something about her that makes him feel insecure. She makes him feel like a student with a crush on his hot teacher.

Which is ridiculous, because he most definitely does not have a crush on her.

Right? Right.

\- I told you that I’ll meet you. Didn’t expect you to sleep so long. – she says with a shrug.

\- Well, didn’t you hear about knocking? Like a person?

\- I did. I also called, but you weren’t answering your phone. So I let myself in.

\- Wait. I have locks in my door. Plus, there’s a code you have to enter to be let in. How did you-

She looks at him with something that can be interpreted only as condescending ‘please.’

Okay, time to change both locks and the code. Great.

\- So, are you going to leave your bed at some point? Or are you planning on working from here? – River says with a huff. When he doesn’t make any move to actually get out of his bed or doesn’t say anything, she rolls her eyes. – Fine. I’ll turn away.

And she does. But even with her back to him, giving him a chance to get out of the bed and wrap a sheet around his waist, she’s still talking.

\- It’s kind of adorable, you know? That you’re embarrassed. Kind of refreshing, because in the 51st century people are much more open about their bodies. And if you’re shy about something else – her voice drops, suggestive and amused at the same time – don’t worry dear, it’s what on the inside that counts. Or so they say.

\- Hey! I am not shy or embarrassed of my body. I am perfectly fine, never had any complaints, thank you very much. – he cannot help but angrily reply. Because who the hell she thinks she is, breaking into his apartment and insulting his manhood?

\- You’re sure? I can check it out for you. – he hears her reply on his way to the bathroom.

\- No, thank you. – he shouts back, closing the bathroom door behind him.

When he emerges from the bathroom, showered and properly clothed, he finds River sitting in his living room, drinking a cup of tea and looking like she bloody owns the place. She looks up at him from her cup.

\- Oh, all dressed up? You’re really no fun, Mister Bond. – she pouts. She’s annoyingly cheerful and ridiculously flirty for such an early hour – it’s not even 9 am yet – but he finds himself amused by her quips. She obviously tries to loosen up the mood between them, the distrust on his part and the upper hand she had over him. She wants them to be on the same level. He cannot help but feel grateful for that.

\- Okay. I promised you some answers yesterday. – she starts. – Anything you want to ask me?

He sits on a chair opposite of hers and looks at her. Is there anything he wants to ask her? Of course. The questions form in his head and flow to this mouth, he lists them all in his head, sorts through them, puts them into categories, wonders if she can answer them all. But the most important question, the question of the hour falls from his lips before he even has a chance to file it in the ‘never ask’ box.

\- Did you really kill the Bow Tie guy?

The second he says that, he wants to beat himself on the head. Why does he have to do it? Why can’t he for once keep his stupid mouth shut, why.

\- I was thinking about something mission related, - River slowly says, and he happily notes that she seems a bit surprised with his question – but I guess that this one is quite fair as well. And the answer is yes. I did kill him.

He wants to ask more questions: how is he alive then? Why did she do it?, but the look on her face her stops him. Guilt, regret and pain – they’re all clearly rewritten over her features. Whatever happened – and how it happened – obviously still haunts her. Dropping this subject seems like a smart thing to do, he doesn’t want to shatter the newly found – still barely there – ease. So he asks the next question that comes to his head:

\- Why me?

\- Excuse me? – this question also catches River off-guard, but in a different way: she excepted him to pursue the ‘dead but alive Bow Tie guy’ trope. She seems relieved that he isn’t doing that. – Why you what?

\- Why did you choose me? To work with, I mean.

\- Oh, I didn’t. It wasn’t my call. – she explains. – The Church asked MI6 for their best operative. – he cannot help but smile at this. He knew, he’s always known that he’s the best agent. He only needed an official confirmation and here it is. – But apparently their best one was busy, so they gave me you instead. – River finishes the sentence with a smirk.

\- You think you’re so funny, don’t you? – he grumbles. If she’s not busy punching his face, she bruises his ego. What kind of a demon she is?

\- I don’t think so. I know I am. – she winks at him. – Okay, now if you’re done with the questions, here you go. – she tosses a thick paper folder in his direction. – We’re going to meet my contact today. Read the info, memorise the club’s blueprints. And if you have any questions, mission related this time – she says quickly when he opens his mouth – feel free to ask him.

\- Why exactly are we meeting him?

\- Because if there’s anyone who knows where Mr. Xing is, it’s Dorium Maldovar.

xxx

There could be worse ways to spend an evening than going to a club with a beautiful woman by your side. Normally, it’d be one of his favourite ways to spend his free time. As it turns out, with River Song nothing is normal.

Just a few minutes ago, she took the Dorium’s file from his hands, forced him to get up and put on his best suit. Then she handed him two of the guns she’d received from Q. He only managed to put them in the holster hidden under his jacket, when she took his left hand, placed it on the device she’s always had on her wrist and started pushing some buttons on it. When he asked her what it is, she answered shortly with “vortex manipulator”. When he asked what this thing do, she only winked, smile and said “oh, you’ll see”. She pushed one final button and then-

He doesn’t even know how to describe what happened next. There were blinding, colourful lights behind his eyes, the feel of flying with great speed, electricity crackling around him and his body feeling like it was trying to turn itself on the other side. At some point he must’ve closed his eyes, because once the movement around him stops and he can catch his breath, he slowly opens them. Turns out he and River are in a toilet stall. A small toilet stall, which forces them to be pressed together in a rather distracting way. Distracting for him at least, because River is too busy stabbing her – what was this thing called? – vortex manipulator with her index finger to notice anything else.

\- I did not want to end up in a toilet – she says, each word punctuated with a poke at the manipulator around her wrist. – I told him ‘no sweetie, I do not need parking sensors here, please do not fiddle with it’. But of course he never listens. Now – poke- the bloody thing – poke - goes off –poke – the planed - poke - course – poke – every damn time – poke.

\- River – he starts hesitatingly, because while he wants to know where they are, he also doesn’t want her to transfer her anger at him. – Uhm, where are we?

\- In a thankfully unoccupied toilet stall, in case you haven’t noticed. – she replies bitterly. – Now, if you only move- Just open the damn door, will you?

He finds the doorknob and pushes it and they’re bloody lucky, because the door opens outside. They emerge from the tiny stall, straightening their clothes and concealing their weapons. River fluffs her hair that looks even more unmanageable than usually. She looks at him, smiles and shoves him through the bathroom door.

\- Mister Bond, – she says following him – welcome to the 52nd century.

He finds himself in a huge club, filled with dancing people. The lights are pulsing around them, the music is deafeningly loud and air is filled with the scent of alcohol and sweat. They’re making their way through the crowd and it’s then when he starts noticing.

\- River, - he shouts into her ear – these... these are not all people!

\- It’s the 52nd century! What did you expect? – she looks at him, surprised and amused. – Don’t stare, it’s impolite. And yes, they’re aliens. Although for them, you are the alien. Come on.

They pass a group of... aliens with bright purple horns on their heads and their bodies covered in fur. A girl with brightly blue skin winks at him and wait, does that guy have tentacles instead of hands? He wants to ask River about that one, but suddenly she stops, standing before two tall men. Dorium’s bodyguards. At least they’re humans. And from what he can see – River’s hair blocks his view – they’re also heavily armed. The expressions on their faces are blank and rather thoughtless. Stupid and armed. He cannot help but grin. Oh, this is going to be fun.

\- Hello boys. - says River and he’s sure she’s wearing her most annoying and condescending smirk. – Be so good and inform Dorium that Doctor Song and her friend are here to meet him.

None of the ‘boys’ even winks.

River sighs and before he can blink, she pulls two of her guns and points them at the bodyguards’ crotches.

\- Please? – she adds.

Now, that caught their attention and apparently made them realise that some messages need to be delivered. Also, River looks like a person who could shoot the messenger before even sending him with the message. They look at each other and one of them leaves, while the other shows them into a small room, away from the crowd and loud music.

\- You sit and wait. – he says in a monotone voice.

Ah. So it speaks. He looks at River and she seems to be as amused by it as he is. They don’t have time to exchange any jokes, because Dorium Maldovar enters the room. He’s glad he isn’t drinking anything, because he’s pretty sure that if he had, he’d be choking on it by now.

Because for all the information that the folder on Maldovar contained, in no place it mentioned that he is blue.

Blue like a... blueberry.

He feels a stab of pain in his leg and hears River’s hissing ‘stop staring’ to him. Well, excuse me, it’s not every day that you meet a real time Smurf. Although, maybe for River it is a regular occurrence.

\- Oh. Doctor Song. I see you upgraded. – Dorium’s voice booms near them. He looks up and the blue man is sitting right in front of them. – How did the Doctor take it? Or maybe it’s him, just a different face?

Wait. Is he talking about him?

\- No, James here is my partner. He helps me with a case. – River replies calmly.

He absolutely doesn’t feel hurt that River didn’t even address the notion of them being an item, like the mere idea was ridiculous to begin with. He doesn’t feel hurt at all. Nope.

\- What case? – asks Dorium flippantly.

\- Don’t worry, it’s nothing major. – River answers just as flippantly. – We just want to know where we can find Mr. Xing.

The look on Dorium’s face is priceless. He looks like a fish – a very blue fish – gasping for air.

\- I-I.. don’t know wha-what you’re talking about. – he stammers.

\- Oh Dorium. Look. – River starts with a bored expression on her face. – Let’s not do this again. Just tell us what you know and we’ll be on our way. We’ll even buy drink at your bar. Right, James?

He nods. He could actually use a drink right now.

\- But I don’t know anything! – exclaims Dorium his voice high and panicked. – I swear!

\- I see. Just like you do not know anything about the jewels of the X’zhang dynasty that are hidden in your vault? Or The Goblet of Dhrasi’ Fire that you keep in your office? Or – River leans over the table and whispers in a confident tone – or the packets of plus-cocaine that you’re selling in here. It’s funny, you know, because plus-cocaine doesn’t get synthesised until 5374, right? Someone must have smuggled it from the future. I am sure that dealers now would be quite angry if someone told them what you’re selling under the counter. See, I am pretty sure that all these things in your vault do have owners. Something also tells me that you did not obtain these goods legally. One would have to whisper a word or two to the right person and-

River stops talking and leans back in her chair to admire her work. And he has to admit – she’s good. Dorium’s face went from pale to red during her monologue. Or it’d have done that, if he wasn’t blue. It was more like his face went from baby blue pink to purple in the matter of seconds. He’s staring at River with his mouth wide open, desperation and fear clearly written on his face.

\- I am just trying to make a living. – Dorium finally gasps. – I am an honest businessman and I am just trying to earn some money.

\- Oh, I am sure you do. – nods River. – And I am sure that the jury will understand that, right James?

\- It’ll take some time before jury will decide about that. – he says. Dorium turns into his direction and listens to him, his mouth still agape. – First, the local would be closed and searched. With a club this big, it’ll take what- a month? to properly go through it? And if they don’t find anything, it’ll be fine, you’ll be open and running. But if they do-

\- What? What if they do find something? – Dorium asks and he knows that they have him. He looks over to River and by the way her lips curve into a smile, she knows it too.

\- Well – he continuous – they’ll confiscate every illegal substance and object found here. Catalogue them. And of course, they’ll have to take the person in charge into the custody. They’ll investigate every part of their life. They’ll ask about everything. They’ll find out what they want to find out. You are the person in charge, aren’t you Dorium?

Dorium quickly nods.

\- I... – he starts. – I’ll need some protection. Reassurance that you won’t talk. That you won’t tell it was me who spoke.

\- You don’t lie to us, we won’t talk about you. That’s all the reassurance you’ll get. – River says coolly. - Now. Talk. Everything you know about Mr. Xing and his little plan.

It takes Dorium over an hour to tell them everything he knows. Why, how, who, when. He spills all the secrets, all the whereabouts, every single detail. He doesn’t know much about the actual plan, more about people around Xing, his friends and confidents, places he goes to, events he attends. But judging from River’s face – this is enough. For now.

When they finally get up from their chairs, Dorium looks one step away from a nervous breakdown.

\- Don’t worry yourself dear – coos River. – You did a great job. We will see ourselves out. But before that we’ll get a drink or two, okay? Everything’s on the house tonight, right?

Dorium just looks at her and nods.

They go to the main part of the club, where the people and creatures of various shapes and forms are still partying like there’s no tomorrow. He feels River nudging him with her elbow.

\- Okay, Mr. Bond. You did a good job. Now – she pushes him into the crowd. – go and mingle. Enjoy your first 52nd century’s party!

The last thing he sees before drowning in the colourful sea of bodies is her laughing face. Not a bad way to start a party, he think. Not a bad way at all.


	3. they wanna crack your crossword smile

The first thing he registers after opening one of his eyes is pain. White hot pounding pain settled somewhere in his skull. Thing number two: His mouth feels like The Sahara. Not, scratch that, The Sahara is a duck pond compared to his mouth.

He opens his eyes to see where he is.

Bad idea: the light must’ve burned his retinas and set the nerve endings in his brain on fire. He quickly closes his eyes, but from the brief glimpse he got, he can say his at home. In his own bed. With the biggest hangover ever. He doesn’t remember much from last night – at least not from the part after River pushed him into the crowd. There are bits and pieces of memories, pictures of various drinks – many drinks – and various creatures. But he’s in too much agony to even try making some sense out of them. He wants to do nothing more than curl under the blankets and sleep for the next 2 days. Or die. Which he may as well do if the pain in his head doesn’t stop soon. He lets out a quiet groan.

\- Oh, so you’re awake. Finally. I’ve been wondering if you slipped in an alcohol induced coma. – River’s calm voice comes from somewhere above him.

He makes the effort to open his eyes again and is greeted with the sight of slightly amused River Song. Her voice makes his ears bleed. Hell, her breathing makes his ears bleed. Why can’t she breath quietly?

\- Go away. – he mutters. He doesn’t want anyone to witness his agony. He’ll suffer alone.

\- Can’t do, Mister Bond. Come on, open your eyes! – she pokes his arm. – Come on, before I pull the covers off!

He bloody hates River Song.

He opens his eyes, because he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t, she will carry on her threat. And he wants to die with at least a bit of his dignity remaining. River is sitting on the edge of his bed, with a glass of water in her hand.

\- Good boy – she smiles when she sees him sitting up a bit. – Now, take these. – she hands him two white pills that he assumes to be painkillers. He takes the glass of water from her hands and washes the pills down. Oh, what a relief. His mouth stopped feeling like he’s been keeping sawdust there.

Okay. He definitely doesn’t hate River. He bloody loves her.

\- It’s great that you enjoyed yourself James, but next time you should really be more careful. – River suddenly says. – You never know who may take pictures of you dancing on a bar.

What? He didn’t...

\- You do know how to dance, I must admit that. Never thought you’re capable of putting on such moves! – she continues. – But the best part was when you started taking off your clothes. Everyone at the club was giddy with excitement, trust me.

\- What? – he manages to croak. He’s pretty sure he would never do something like that, but then again – he cannot remember anything about last night. He cannot feel the pain in his head anymore, it’s being replaced with the awful sense of dread. – I did what?

\- You danced naked on top of the bar. – River replies, smirking slightly. – I took some great pictures if you don’t believe me. Showed that to M and trust me, I’ve never seen anyone laughing so much.

Okay, scratch that. He doesn’t love River Song. He bloody hates her, because she is the bane of his life. And he’s going to make her pay for that. Somehow. Twist her neck maybe? But first, he’ll have to find a new job, because M won’t let him to forget about that. She is going to taunt him about this incident for the rest of his life and – what is worse - she’ll make her everyone around him will know about it.

River last about 5 seconds before laughing at his expression.

\- I cannot believe you fell for that – she manages to says between fits of laughter. – I just... If you could see you face!

\- So I didn’t dance on the bar? – he asks her hopefully, when her laughter subsides. He’s ready to forgive her for that joke, just please, tell him that no one at that bar saw his naked ass. Some of the creatures there had tentacles for fuck’s sake! And then there’s M who is worse than any alien, even the ones with twelve pairs of eyes flying around their heads.

\- The only thing you did at the bar yesterday was passing out on top of it, dear. – she says with a patient sigh. – Not surprising, considering how much you drank. Do you have any idea how hard it to travel by vortex manipulator with someone who can’t stand on their feet? You’re lucky I didn’t drop you in the middle of the journey back.

Oh, so at least one good thing that came from his drunk state: he didn’t have to experience another journey with that thing. This much, this good.

But wait. River dragged him back here, right? Just... He takes on look under his sheet.

\- Did you undress me?! – he asks her and even he can hear the panic in his voice. Not that he’d mind her undressing him. Under different circumstances of course. Him being drunk out of his ass – no man would like to be undressed by a beautiful woman in this state.

\- Don’t worry, Mister Bond. You did all the undressing yourself. Right after you puked on my shoes.

\- I did not! Did I? – Marvellous. Everything’s is going simply marvellous.

\- That you actually did. But don’t worry, I asked your department for a refund. – River says breezily. – They’ll pay be back from your next pay check. Now... Get up and make yourself presentable. We have a plane to catch. And quite honestly, you stink like a distillery.

\- A plane? What? – his brain simply cannot follow her this morning. He’s never going to drink again. At least not in an alien bar.

\- We know what Mr. Xing likes, we know where we can find him. We – River says getting up to her feet – are going to Moscow.

xxx

The flight to Moscow takes four hours, so River has plenty of time to provide him with detailed information on Mr. Xing and his whereabouts. They’re on the private jet – thank gods, otherwise they’d be gagged and put into straightjackets the second River uttered the first sentence.

\- Xing is not a human. – she starts. – He’s a Klath’ari. It’s a race living in the 74th century. They’re... Well, they didn’t evolve from any other species, like humans did. They’re not a natural occurrence, that’s what I’m trying to say. They’ve been engineered and designed in a lab. What’s interesting is the fact that they’ve been created on Earth.

\- What do you mean, created? They put some pieces together, Frankenstein-style? – he asks.

\- No. It’s different. In the 63rd century, everything that can be achieved in medicine and science will be achieved. And of course, people will aspire to do something more, without really thinking about the consequences. -  River explains patiently with a sigh. – The brightest people from all over the worlds – and not only Earth, the whole universe – got  together to create the perfect species. Combine the genomes of various races, choosing their best characteristics, eliminating their weaknesses, not only physical, but psychological as well. The newly created species was supposed to be the ultimate uber-species: beautiful, intelligent, not feeling anger or any negative emotions, displaying no signs of violence. And so on. Noble idea. But as you can imagine – it didn’t work out.

\- Why is that? Will it have ten hands, tentacles on its head and IQ of a person taking part in a reality show?

\- Actually, no. What happened was unexpected. The human genome took over all the others. What was created looked like a human being. At least very similar. There were some differences, minor ones compared to what was planned: the species has green skin. They’re a bit taller and slimmer. Some of the diseases that plague and will plague human race do not attack them. But that’s about it. There’s nothing supernatural about them, not in the way everyone wanted there to be.

\- And what did they do with them? Considering that the human genes took over, I guess they could live on Earth, right?

\- Very well, Mister Bond. – says River with a small smile of approval. – Finally, putting that big... brain of yours to some use. And yes, they could live on Earth – the atmosphere here is perfect for them. The problem was, that the Earth was already overpopulated. You simply couldn’t add another species there, one that could procreate and add to already too large population.

\- So what did they do? They didn’t kill them, right?

\- Oh no, they were much more... humanitarian than that. They found a planet for them. One that was similar to Earth, but in a different solar system. So they took them there. Gave them the resources and technology needed to create their own civilisation. Promised to protect them if the need ever arises. Of course, at first Klath’arian culture had been a mix of many cultures. But over the millennia they developed their own culture. And language. They do quite well, there are 6 billion of them at the moment. It’s just... – she hesitates for a moment.

\- What is it?

\- See, there’s this thing that bothers me. They are very peaceful. It’s impossible for them to get annoyed, let alone angry. They don’t accept weapons, they don’t really know what weapons are. They’re not greedy. Money is of no value to them, they don’t use it, they don’t have a monetary system.

\- So? – he shrugs. – What’s so important about these things?

\- So – she says mocking his tone - why one of them decided to create soldiers and sell them hell knows where? Can you explain this little fact to me?

_Oh._

xxx

He doesn't like Russia. He cannot help it. This country makes him suspicious. It makes him feel queasy. Okay, so maybe it's not the whole country that makes his skin crawl, just some people in here.

(When he tells that River, she rolls her eyes at him and tells him to stop being overdramatic. When he tells her that it's not his fault that Russians just keep appearing in his life all the time and that usually they have bad intentions, she laughs at him and tell him that every real hero must have nemesis, his Daleks. When he asks her what Daleks are, she replies with 'deadly salt shakers on wheels that just won’t go away'. She doesn’t offer him any further explanation, merely tells him to stop tapping his fingers against their table.)

They've been sitting in a bar of one of best Russians hotels for over an hour now. They're observing Xing, who has a meeting with some other man, probably he’s business partner. Xing is just as bland as his name - he's a middle aged man, with a receding hairline, a polite smile and a face you'd forget the second you finish talking with him. It is hard to believe that he smuggles and sells weapons, but then again. It is even harder to believe that he's really green and alien-y underneath his designer suit.

\- Can't you just sit in one place? - huffs River. His restlessness annoys her, he can see that. He cannot sit in one place, he wants to do something. He's been fiddling with a napkin - until River took it away from him. Then he occupied himself with putting toothpicks in her hair when she was busy looking at Xing. He managed to put 9 of these in her curls before she noticed anything. (He sent her his most charming smile with a muted 'sorry'. Somehow it did not phase her - she still looked ready to kill him).

He’s considering taking out his phone and playing Angry Birds when Xing finally gets up. He shakes hands with the man who’s been sitting with him. They exit the bar together, but once they’re out, they part – Xing goes towards the hotel reception, so they follow him. He crosses the reception and goes towards the elevator. They catch up with him when he’s about to enter it.

\- Mister Xing? – River starts politely with a charming smile on her face. – My friend and I would like to talk with you. Can you just please spare us a moment?

\- I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you scheduling any meeting. – he looks at them coolly. – If you do want to talk with me, call my secretary, either in England or China. Now, excuse me, but I have other plans.

He grabs Xing’s wrist before he can walk away.

\- The talk will just take a few minutes. – he says. – It’d be better if you walked with us. Trust me.

\- Listen, you two. I have no idea who you are, but I won’t let you treat me like that. – Xing says, his voice loud and angry, trying to get his arm out of his grip. – I am a powerful man and a serious businessman and you are disturbing me. Now – he hisses, finally releasing his hand – do excuse me, I have other meeting to attend.

He passes them and goes towards the stairs, when River says something. And yes, it is something, because it is not a world he’s ever heard. The noise she makes sounds like breaking glass: brief, clear and falling rapidly from her lips. Xing turns abruptly and gapes at her, his mouth open and eyes almost bulging out.

\- How do you, how do you- I- how... – he stutters nervously.

\- Mister Xing, - says River with a dangerous smile – I believe you owe us a meeting.

Xing merely nods his head, still staring at River with a shocked and terrified expression on his face. They walk to the bar they only just exited and sit at the first free table. For a few moments they sit in silence: Xing observing them and trying to deduce what they want from him, River smiling her best Cheshire Cat smile and him - trying to grasp what just happened.

\- I must congratulate you on your Klath’arian. – Xing breaks the silence. – It’s a difficult language to learn, Miss-

\- It’s Doctor Song. – says River without batting an eyelid. – And this is my friend, Mister Bond.

Ho nods curtly towards Xing, but the man – the alien? – pretends not to notice it. So he’s not only alien, but also rude. Great. This mission is getting better and better.

\- What do you want from me? – Xing finally asks. – If it’s the money – fine, I can give you it! How much do you want? I am a rich man, I can provide you with wealth you haven’t even dreamt of.

\- I highly doubt it. – he interrupts Xing drily. – No, Mister Xing. We are interested in something else. Something that is even more valuable than money. We want some information.

Xing suddenly shrinks in his chair, it looks like he’s trying to mold into it. Maybe he can, who knows what tricks these alien buggers have up their sleeve.

\- Information? – he squeaks. -  I know nothing!

\- See, it’s just awful when you start a conversation with lies. – River says, voice angry and hollow. – You really want us to believe that you have no idea what is going on in your company?

\- My company is a well-established and reliable, worldwide respected provider of weaponry.  It’s not a crime, is it?

\- No. But you know what is a crime? Selling arms illegally to the Russians or anyone who is ready to pay. You know what else is a crime? Using a gun factory to create fully armed Autons that imitate humans. You do not have a legal contract for that, I am sure.

\- Oh please! – Xing exclaims and laugh at that. – You can visit my factory and see with your own eyes that nothing like that is going on there.

\- Actually, Mister Xing – he says, a little on edge. – We’ve been to your factory.

\- I see. So it’s you. – Xing suddenly looks at them with interest.  – I’ve been wondering who it was. I must admit, I am impressed that you got out of there alive. Surviving such a jump is impossible!

\- Almost impossible. – River quips in with a small smile on her face. – Now, do tell us. What’s the plan?

\- The plan? – Xing pretends to be pleasantly surprised. His attitude changed, he seems more at ease now. He seems almost amused by them. – What plan?

\- Don’t play dumb. – he spits out and feels River placing a calming hand on his knee. – What are you planning to do with all these Autons? Send them on a killing spree among people?

\- You wound me! – Xing says with theatrical emphasis and he can see River rolling her eyes at that. – Why would I do such a thing?

\- Money? Power? Greed? – lists River quickly. Xing looks at her knowingly.

\- Doctor Song. – he starts, his tone slow and deliberate. – I assume that knowing my language, you also know the culture of my race. And if you do, then you know that we do not care about all these little things.

\- I do know that. – River responds, mimicking his tone. – It’s funny though that someone who doesn’t care about weapons or money, who is not violent, makes fortune producing weaponry.

\- Well yes, - Xing says a bit sheepishly – but one has to make a living somehow, right?

\- Oh, I most certainly agree about this. – nods River and something about her tone makes him wonder how on earth she make a living. When she’s not in prison of course. – But there must be jobs that are better suited for you. It makes us wonder – she pauses for a better effect – that maybe it’s about something else than making a living.

\- Such as? – Xing asks in a mocking voice.

\- Some grudge against people on this planet.

\- You may not believe it, but I hold Earth in high regard. It- reminds me of home. This planet is precious to me. – Xing says slowly with a sigh. - Now, forgive me. As entertaining as this conversation is, I really am needed somewhere else. Have a good day.

\- We know about the Autons shipments. – River blurts out before Xing has a chance to walk away. Wait what shipments? She didn’t tell anything about those.

He has to admit – if anything, Xing has a perfect poker face. A small shadow crosses his forehead, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. Even his voice doesn’t show anything.

\- How? – he asks.

\- I think – says River getting up and gesturing him to do the same. – that the right question would be ‘what shipments?’. Goodbye, Mister Xing.

He mock-salutes the man before following River who is already on her way to exit the hotel.

\- Why didn’t you tell me about the shipments earlier? – he asks when he finally catches up with her. He cannot help but feel a bit hurt. Because here he thought that they are partners and on equal terms, but apparently he was mistaken.

\- Because I had no idea about them. – she says quickly. – I bluffed. But not we know that there are shipments. Come on, – she tugs on his arm – we have some work to do.

xxx

As soon as their boarded their jet and head back to London, River took out her phone and dialled a number, with a sour expression on her face. Right now she is pacing the small plane's corridor and talking, her voice tight and carefully controlled.

\- Yes, yes I am aware of that. - pause - It's not an outlandish request, Father! Obtaining Xing's shipping records legally would take time and it's something we do not have. That’s why I’m asking you to hack his main computer. - another pause - We need all the records. Earth and universe. Yes, I do expect it may take a while, just please do hurry up. - another short pause, a hushed murmur coming from another side of the phone and then a strained "goodbye, Father Matthew."

She finishes the talk and sits heavily on the seat opposite of his. Her face looks tired, her forehead is lined with irritation and anger, her mouth pressed in a tight line. Whoever was on the other side of the phone, must've gotten under her skin.

\- Difficult conversation? - he asks, feigning innocence. She looks up, slightly startled, but she still rolls her eyes at him.

\- Like you haven't heard everything. - she says quietly.

\- I heard it, but it doesn't mean I understood it. - he points out. - Come on. Who did you talk with?

\- One of the clerics.

\- Oh right. - he snorts. - That explains a lot! Now I know everything.

When River looks at him, her jaw tight and eyes suspicious, he knows he's treading on thin ice. But he cannot help it - he wants to know more about her. He needs to know more. It's like an itch under his skin - the mystery of her. He knows she's mad and brave, he knows that she's the best shot he's ever seen - even better than he is. But he doesn't know who she is or what she does. When a woman like her appears in his life - of course he's going to be curious about her. And fine, he admits: he did some research on his own. The problem is that he found absolutely nothing. River song doesn't exist. There are no files proving her existence, no birth certificate, no credit cards, no parking tickets. It only fuelled his curiosity. He only hopes that in his case curiosity won't be deadly.

River is still staring at him as if trying to assess whether or not he's worthy to hear her story. The intensity of her gaze unnerves him and he's about to tell her to forget what he asked, when she finally speaks.

\- It's the very nature of things that almost everything evolves. It also happened to the churches on Earth: by the 51st century churches wasn't only religious organisations. They merged and changed: from purely religious to religious and military. It was called The Church. Its aim was protect the safety of populations all over the universe. They also organise special operations - just like this one. You know, fighting and killing for the greater good. - River laughs bitterly. - And I help them sometimes.

\- But why? You clearly do not like working with them.

\- I try to earn my pardon. - River says after a moment of uneasy silence.

Okay, he was not expecting that. Her answer catches him by surprise and probably that's why he actually asks the next question out loud, not only inside his head.

\- What did you do?

\- You already know the answer to this question. - River says quietly. - I killed someone.

\- But he's alive. The guy you killed, I mean! - he exclaims. - He cannot be dead, because I saw him. Unless you kill him in the future. And really, I wouldn't blame you. Have you seen what he wears?

River giggles at that and the strained expression on her face is slowly disappearing. She opens her mouth to say something else, but a loud 'beep' interrupts her. The content of the message makes her brow furrow and she looks at him in confusion.

\- The message from the Clerics? Do we know where Xing transports the Autons? - he asks eagerly.

\- Yes, but it doesn't make any sense. - River says slowly.

\- And why is that?

\- Because he ships them to his own planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title from 'Dangerous type' by Letters to Cleo.


	4. dynamite with a laser beam

\- It makes no sense. – he repeats yet again.

They came back from Russia and headed straight to M’s office, to debrief her on their new discoveries. She wasn’t exactly happy with what they achieved – or didn’t achieve for that matter. She demanded dates, motives, possible results and ideas how to deal with the whole situation – and they could give her nothing. So here they are now – in his living room, River sitting in one of the armchairs, typing something on his laptop while he’s wearing a path in his carpet.

\- We must have missed something. – he pokes her arm as he passes her. – Let’s go through it again.

\- James, - River sighs – we’ve been through it more than a dozen of times already. Going through it again right now won’t solve anything.

\- Just... Once more. Come on. – he pleads and River mutters something under her breath and closes his laptop. – Hey, don’t be grumpy, it’s not looking good on you, Doctor Song.

\- Shut up. – she says, with a hint of a smile in the corners of her mouth. – Fine. What do we know?

\- We know that Xing is popping out Autons in this little company of his. We do not know why he’s doing that. – he lists. - We know that he’s sending them to his own planet. We do not know why. We know that the Autons are fully armed and possibly ready to go on a killing spree at any moment. We also know that it goes against everything Xing believes in, against all the values he’s been taught. He also claims that he doesn’t want to cause any harm to the Earth. That he cherishes the planet.

\- See? That’s what bothers me. – River jumps in. – He didn’t say ‘people’. He said ‘the planet is dear to me’. It may be just a figure of speech, but he made it sound like he only cares about the planet.

\- Yeah, I felt that too. – he nods. – But then again, why would he send Autons to his home? It really doesn’t make any sense. It’s like sending a ticking bomb to your own home. Conquering other planets – that I get. But your own? Where’s the point in that?

\- Wait, what did you say? – River asks quickly. – Something about a bomb?

\- That it’s like sending a bomb to your own house. What, you remembered something?

\- I don’t know, it’s just, uhm, wait. – she says while checking something on her PDA. – Here it is. You said ‘bomb’ and remembered this, listen: ‘Klath’aria – the home planet of The Klath’arians ceases to exist in 78th century. The core of the planet explodes, changing the previously peaceful planet into a ball of fire.’

\- Okay, so now we know it explodes. What about the Klath’arian? Do they die?

\- There is not info about it.

\- Great. – he snorts. – So we have yet another piece of puzzle and no idea where to put it. Splendid! There are too many unknowns. If we could only eliminate some of them... – he pauses suddenly and looks at River, and this is a great idea, why haven’t they thought about it earlier? – Listen, I know! We’ll just go to the future with that toy of yours, – he points at her vortex manipulator laying on the table – we’ll see what happened on that planet and then we’ll come back and set it right. Simple!

He expected her to smile and look at him with admiration and awe. He expected her praising him and applauding his brilliance. What he didn’t expect was her stern and short ‘no’.

\- But-but, why not?! – he cries out. – It’s a great idea, actually it’s the best idea we’ve had so far! We have to do this.

\- This is not how it works. – she replies calmly.

\- Then how does it work? – he questions and throws himself on a chair next to hers. – Do tell me, I am curious. We have the perfect opportunity to end this now and for some reasons you are reluctant. Tell me, how it works?

\- It’s just- You cannot mess with time like that. – she speaks, leaning slightly towards him. – Foreknowledge is dangerous. Once you see something happening – that’s it, it’s written in stone, it has to happen. You cannot go back and change events that already happened. You can never assess the consequences your actions may have. – he must be looking as confused as he feels, because she sighs and starts again. – Okay, let’s say that you travelled back in time and found yourself facing Hitler, before the WWII. Would you kill him? Would you save the world from him?

What kind of a question is that? Of course he’d do that. He nods quickly.

\- So, what happens next? You killed Hitler. And? – she inquires and he feels like it’s some kind of a test.

\- What do you mean ‘what happens’? The War doesn’t happen. That’s what happens.

\- But can you be sure? Are you sure that there wouldn’t be someone else – maybe someone worse than Hitler – who would carry on that plan of his? Can you guarantee that your decision would be the best one? Could you guarantee that no consequences will come out of changing the history? Could you do something like that?

\- Okay, I get it. I think. – he grimaces. – But... You make it sound like we have no power of our own lives. You make it sound like we have no choice. Like life throws things at us and we’re stuck with them.

\- Life does throw all kind of things at us, that’s true. – River says quietly, eyes fixed on him. – How we handle them – that’s our choice. We have a choice at every point of our lives. We choose what we become.

The silence that falls between them is heavy and deep with meaning he doesn’t understand. But somehow he feels like River shared something important with him. He wishes she would explain to him what exactly did she say.

\- Fine, so we know that one day the planet will make ‘boom’. So will Earth, right? – he clears his throat and the moment is gone. – You think the explosion may have something to do with the Autons? That it’s because of them?

\- No, it’s impossible. But maybe... – she hesitates for a second. – Maybe the Autons are there to save it?

\- Save how? Prevent the explosion? Kill all the citizens now so they won’t suffer later?

\- No, look. Just think about it for a second. Let’s say that you knew that something awful would happen to Earth, but you could somehow stop it, would you do it?

\- Sure. - he answers. – Everyone would try to do something.

\- So maybe it’s what Xing is trying to do. Maybe he’s trying to protect his people.

\- How? By sending them plastic killers? By shooting them on the streets? – he wants to say something more, but a sudden thought hits him. – Wait. Wait. You said that all the races who took part in creating the Klath’arians agreed to protect them if the need arises, right?

\- Yes. – River says slowly. – But what-

\- Would they protect the Klath’arians from one of its creators?

\- Sure. Definitely. But I don’t really see where you’re going with that.

\- Just wait, walk with me through this one, okay? – he stands up and resumes his journey across the room. – Let’s just say that the Autons are programmed by Xing to kill. If they went on a shooting spree and someone found out about it, would it be possible to tell where they came from?

\- Not precisely. One could tell where they were created – in this case Earth, but no one could tell who created them.

\- Sooooo... - he drawls. – There would be no way to connect any of it to Xing, right? Right. If the Autons attacked the Klath’arians, it’d look as if people sent them. What would be the course of action then?

River ponders for a while before answering.

\- The alliance would attack the Auton forces. Then, once they put a stop to that, they’d go to Earth and investigate. And as no one on Earth would have any idea what they’re talking about – they’d assume that we’re they’re lying and that attack was planned. If Xing is smart enough – and I think he might be – he’ll get rid of the Auton producing part of his company. Then there’d be no proof that they weren’t human-made.

\- And if Xing is enough to do all of that, he could place some fake witnesses. – he adds. – It’s done all the time. They could say that the plan was to take over the Klath’aria. Similar living environment, so people could live there. And you said it – the Earth would get over populated. Here we go: a motive. We have the motive. We have crime. What about punishment?

\- They would give us what we want. – says River quickly. – They’d move the entire Earth’s population to the Klath’aria. And the Klath’arians would be moved here. They would live on our planet and people would live on theirs. Well, at least until-

\- Until it explodes. – he finishes with a grim smile. – People die, the Klath’arians live. Xing didn’t lie – Earth is precious to him.

\- You do realise that this theory is pretty out there? – River shakes her head. – It makes sense for us, but-

\- But we have nothing else. So. What do we do now, Doctor Song?

\- I’ll run it through the Clerics. – she cringes. – And you – go and talk with M. We have to see what they have to say about it. If they give us the green light – we go.

\- How exactly will we go?

River smiles and her grin is mischievous.

\- Together, Mr. Bond. Together.

xxx

For the next few days he barely sees River. He’s busy preparing the mission: choosing the operatives, explaining to them what they’re getting into (he thought this would be the most difficult part, but it was surprisingly easy. Maybe because River decided to drop by during the first meeting. By ‘drop by’ he means ‘she materialised in a cloud of smoke, created a hole in the wall with her square gun, asked him ‘is everything okay, James?’ and disappeared without waiting for his answer. The agents in the room were pretty impressed by that, but they were even more speechless). He also keeps on preparing new versions of the attack plan every day, but it proves to be incredibly challenging considering that he doesn’t exactly know what they are supposed to do. As for River... Well. She is busy as well. She must be. He hopes so – he hopes that she runs errands and attends tedious meetings just as he does, and doesn’t for example spend her time in space spa. (Are there even things like space spas? He should ask her once she appears.)

She finally comes back to him. Well, not to him per se. It’s a gloomy evening, and he’s still at his newly obtained office (it’s more of a janitor closet if he’s to be honest. But M said that it’s the best they could whip up on such a short notice. She seems strangely gleeful that he’s spending most of his days behind the desk now, and he swears that he heard her mutter ‘easier to control you that way’). River walks into his office when he’s entertaining himself with throwing darts at Xing’s picture. River shots him and amused glare when he misses and the dart hits the wall instead of the photo, but he’s happy to see her again and he doesn’t pay attention to her teasing grin.

\- It’s good to see that your aim is precise, Mister Bond. – she winks at him. – Now, hope you’re ready to actually do something useful.

Hell yes, he is. He’s been dying from boredom over the last few days. Give him aliens, give him even a travel with River’s vortex manipulator. Anything to get out of his stuffy closet. But he cannot show her that he’s so eager. No. Gonna play it cool.

\- As ready as I always am. – he says slowly. – Got the clearance from the Clerics?

\- This and so much more. – he starts and sits on his chair – also known as the only chair in his office. - It turns out that we are right about Xing. Or at least that we are close enough. It seems that our friend pulled a trick like that – although on much smaller scale – in the past.

\- What? How so?

\- It was back in the 90’s. He was working in America then, ran a business similar to this one. He accused a smaller company of stealing his patent. There was a whole investigation of course. They didn’t find any proof, but what they did find was a group of witnesses who worked at the smaller company. They all said that they knew that produced guns are based on Xing’s design.

\- And what then? – he asks eagerly.

\- And – River continues – they were made to pay compensation. But they didn’t have enough money. So... Can you guess what happened?

\- Let me guess: Xing incorporated the other company. Yes? – River nods. – Oh, he’s good. I do not want to admit it, but he is good. What’s the plan then?

\- The Autons are programmed to do something. We simply reprogram them: override the old command and place in the new one.

\- That’s all? – he shrugs dismissively. – Sounds easy enough.

\- Sure, easy enough. – mutters River. – Except we do not know where the main computer is. It can be in the China factory or in the London branch. Or on both of them. Or somewhere else entirely.

\- Fine, so it’s a bit more complicated. But I am sure you’re prepared for that, aren’t you? – he says teasingly.

\- In fact, I am. – she smirks. – We’re going tomorrow. Two teams: one here, one in China. We’ll be working at the same time, so that if the data is on both computers – everything gets disabled, without a chance to restore it. If the data is only on one computer – they won’t have a chance to do anything about it, because we hit both: the one with the program and the one without it.

\- And if the program is somewhere else?

\- That is such an optimistic question. – River rolls her eyes, but looks at him with affection. – If it’s not on any of the computers, we will get Xing to tell us where it is. Any means necessary. We won’t have a choice.

He nods. She’s right – they may not have a choice. The importance of stopping Xing’s plan is too great, too much is at stake. If plan A fails, plan B must be brought into life. With full force.

\- Okay, if that’s settled, here you are. – River hands him a black USB stick. – The decoding program is on here. You just find the computer in Xing’s office, turn it on, put that in – and done. That and you know, trying not to get killed by the guards. You’re leading the team here. All the details are already on your computer. There’ll be an official debrief tomorrow, but you should go over these files now.

\- And what about you? – he asks.

\- I’ll be doing the same, but in China. We felt that both the Clerics and I are better prepared to the potential risks we may encounter there. There’s a whole factory of Autons in there. – she explains. – We’ll be maintaining communication, so that we know when one team needs help or completes its task.

\- How will we know that we succeeded?

\- The reprogramming – she nods at the USB stick in his hands – is supposed to override the original command. All the Autons will forget about what they’re supposed to do. They’ll be deactivated and as harmless as mannequins.

\- Mannequins, you say? Sorry to break it to you, but mannequins caused quite a bit of panic a few years ago. – he snorts. – Started walking out of the shops, causing havoc everywhere. So maybe you should re-think that ‘mannequin harmlessness’ thing.

\- Don’t be such a smartass. – River says and whacks him lightly on the arm. – That was a completely different case. Not that different, but different.

\- You know about that? – he gasps.

\- If course I know about it. Heard the story from the person who disabled them all. – she replies. – Now. Check those files and go home. Get some beauty sleep. You look like you really need it.

\- Now, who’s the smartass? – he shouts after her retreating form.

xxx

The next morning and afternoon pass in a blur of meetings and debriefs. He prepares his team, he shares the details of the plan with M, he tests the weapons prepared by Q. River is present at the first morning debrief – together with three Clerics. They look stern and serious and even though they didn’t do anything to him, he cannot warm up to them. They’re perfectly polite, throwing ‘sir’ and ‘madam’ around, they know what they’re talking about and they discuss the possible outcomes of their plan. It’s all fine, really, but the way River acts around them – cagey and withdrawn – makes keep his distance.

Right after the debrief, River and the Clerics go to prepare on their own. They won’t be travelling to Beijing by plane, they’ll be using one of these vortex manipulators or something like that to get to the place on time. Still, they have to prepare and check their weapons, discuss tactics. Or at least so they say. River parts from him with a wink and ‘see you later’.

And now...

Now it’s show time.

He’s on the roof of MassArms London building. It’s midnight and the wind blowing around him is so cold that he’s freezing his tits off. He’s waiting for his team to make their places – they’ve been divided in five groups, 3 people teach and they’ve been scattered both on the company premises and inside the building. While they’re using the sewage pipes to get inside the building, he’ll be entering from the above. It’s the shortest way to Xing’s office, he won’t pass any guards check points and hopefully – he won’t attract any attention to himself. He briefly thinks about River and her team. What he’s doing in the depth of night, she has to do in the bright day, in the middle of the biggest cities in the world. He knows that she’s absolutely capable of doing it, but he cannot help but worry a bit.

The last team signals that they reached their destination and he finally moves. He opens the air vent and slides inside. The pipe is tight, but at least it’s clean, so at least he won’t sneeze himself to death. He slowly makes his way to the pipe leading to Xing’s office, trying to make as little noise as possible. When he finally reaches his destination, he pushes the grille out – it falls on the office floor with a quiet ‘thump’ and gets out of the pipe. He lands on the floor, the thick carpet muffles the sounds of his boots hitting the floor. The computer is just where it was all these months ago, when he was here for the first time to get the data out of it. He listens closely, but so far everything seems fine: no sound of fight, no footsteps nearing his location.

Everything seems to be running smoothly.

Too smoothly.

As soon as he turns on the computer and enters the password provided by River, the alarm in the whole building goes off. The lights in the office suddenly blind him, and he can hear footsteps and first shots slicing the air.

Fuck.

He estimates that he has maybe 20 seconds to plug the USB into the computer and either get out or go and help his team, when the door to the office open.

He expected at least a dozen of armed guards. He expected guns trained at him, voices ordering him to get up and arms forcefully taking him away from the computer.

He didn’t expect to see himself. But there he is: a perfect copy of himself, standing in the doorway, looking at him and smiling unpleasantly.

‘Think, think, think’ he chants inside his head. ‘It could be the Auton. River said they can look like people. They can be copies of humans.’

The second him smiles even more widely. And then he lurches at him, without a warning. The computer desk is between them, so he manages to jump back and get some distance between himself and his clone. The clone cocks his head gently to left. He looks like he’s calculating the next move, like he’s trying to find the best and most successful way to attack him. Finally, he jumps over the desk and pushes him against the wall. He pushes back and tries to punch his copy, but the robot manages to catch his wrist before it reaches it face. He tries to kick him – the Auton steps on his foot before he can swing his leg.

And this is when he realises: he’s fighting with himself. Every tactic known to him, is known to the Auton. Every move he makes, the Auton can predict.

Great.

Let’s just hope it works both ways.

The Auton releases his hand and takes a swing at him, but he manages to block the punch and use the force to push the robot off of him. They stagger to the middle of the room, standing opposite of each other. (He can hear the blood rushing through his body, it flows loudly through his veins. Does the Auton hear the same thing inside himself? How human is he really?)

His copy rushes into his direction, but he moves away when he nears and hits his head. The plastic head dents slightly under the force of his punch, and the Auton loses his balance a bit. But he’s quickly back at his feet, turning around and throwing another attack.

Hit – block, punch – avoid, kick – move aside.

It goes on and on. It’s like a never ending dance – they circle around each other, they meet in a forceful embrace and part just to come close again. They are the same men. They have the same knowledge. They use the same attacks and they know what the other one will do next.

His breath is slightly ragged and he steps back, trying to put some distance between them and just get a second of rest. The robot him follows him, so he take another step back. The force of the fall knocks the air out of his lungs, the pain runs along his spine and limbs, but he knows he doesn’t have time to lie down and wait for it to go away. He tries to get to his feet, knowing he has only a few seconds before the Auton uses his position to his advantage and attacks, but it’s too late: he’s already kneeling by his side, one knee on his chest, his hands closing around his throat. He tries to fight, to push the Auton away, but he can’t. The hands around his throat are tight, chocking the breath out of him, the knee on his chest grows heavier, pressing into his ribs and squeezing his lungs. His eyes water, his breath comes in short rasps, he cannot focus on nothing but the pressure on his throat and burning ache in his lungs. His vision swims and the world around him looks different: he sees pictures, snapshots – brightly coloured and smudged.

The Auton moves one hand from his throat. _Snap._

His free hand breaks in half and a gun slides out of it. _Snap._

The cold barrel of the gun against his head. _Snap._

The ugly smile of the face hovering above him. _Snap._

The next thing he registers through the fog in his brain is a muffled ‘bang’ and suddenly, the pressure on his chest and throat disappears. There’s another bang – closer to him, but he doesn’t look to see what it was, because he can breathe. He sucks the air greedily through his nose, his throat and lungs burning, his neck aching from the fingers that were there just seconds ago.

Someone crouches down next to him, a dark silhouette with golden halo outlining its shape. He wants to stand up and fight, but the person places a hand on his shoulder and says soothingly ‘it’s okay, it’s me.’

River.

\- Are you alright? – she asks and he feels relief spreading through him. His vision clears a bit and he can see her next to him, concern on her face. He nods and winces slightly, because the movement hurts his neck. – Okay, get up.

He accepts her outstretched hand and gets to his feet. For a second he wobbles slightly on his feet, but quickly he can stand on his own. He walks towards the body laying on the floor. River put two bullets through the Auton’s  head. Now he lies, sprawled on the carpet, useless and harmless.

\- They must have gotten your files. – River breaks the silence in the office. – Probably hacked MI6’s database when they realised we’re looking into their case. He knew exactly what you’ll do next, right?

He nods, still looking at the body in the floor. He never thought he’d be standing over his dead body. It’s weird and sense uncomfortable tingling down his back. He swallows and turns back to River.

\- How did you know that I was in trouble? – he whispers, not wanting to strain his throat more.

\- I didn’t. – she shrugs. – We did what we were supposed to do there, we even managed to track Xing, so we can get a hold of him if this doesn’t work. We decided to come here. The Clerics are helping your team with the guards. Actually, all the guards are already disarmed. I decided to look for you. Good that I did that.

\- And how did you know which one to shoot?

\- Made a wish? Clicked my heels three times? – River answers quickly, without looking at him.

Wait. Wait. Does that mean...

\- You guessed?! – he manages to croak.

\- It was a good guess though.

\- You could have killed me! – he looks back at the plastic copy of him and thinks that there was 50% of chance he could be lying there.

\- But I didn’t. – she says sharply. – Now, stop whining and give me the USB.

He places the stick in her hand and she goes to the computer and plugs it it.

\- Come on... – she whispers. – Work.

The computer beeps quietly and behind him – from where the shot Auton is laying - he can hear a faint ‘whoosh’. He goes there and crouches to inspect it. The body is still there, but it looks different. He turns it on the back to get a better looks and he takes a deep breath when he sees its face. Any resemblance to him is gone: the face is smooth, no special features: a face of a shop mannequin. River is already by his side, looking at the now-mannequin closely.

\- River. – he starts slowly. – It changed. He changed. He was me and now he’s... Does it mean?

\- Yes. – River replies with a small smile. – It worked. The plan worked. We’ll still have to wait for the report the Klath’aria, but I think we succeeded.

He releases the breath he’s been holding, the tension disappearing from his body, leaving him suddenly tired and weary.

\- Good job, Mister Bond. – River adds teasingly. – Of course, it’d be better if you didn’t yourself almost killed by your own plastic copy, but you know. Good job for a beginner.

He glares at her. She’s insufferable, the smug wench.

\- That’s very-

\- Funny, I know. – River smirks. – Come on. We have to go. I’m sure your boss is dying to know what happened here.

He slowly gets up, stretching a bit. He walks slowly towards River, standing already near the door. He takes one last look at the office, at the body that was him but not him at the same time. He has no idea how he’s going to report it all to M, because he still cannot wrap his head around it. A version of him was killed, a copy of him tried to kill him. There’s a mess in his head and he’s not exactly sure what to make out if it. But River’s arm is warm against his as they walk down the empty corridor, and he thinks that everything is going to be fine.

They’re nearing the entrance and through the glass door he can see the Xing’s guards on the ground and his team and the Clerics standing behind them, pointing their guns at them. He’s about to open the poor, when River nudges him gently with her elbow and asks, the laughter bubbling in her voice:

\- James, have you ever heard about auto-erotic asphyxiation?

He snorts and lets her through the door. Yes. Everything is going to be fine.

xxx

It’s the same night – or no, actually it’s already morning, 4:51 am to be precise – and he’s standing with River at the back of MI6’s quarters. The air is chilly and the sun is just making its way up. It’s quiet and calm out here and it’s a relief after the madness of the last few hours. The last few hours have been spent in rooms full of government officials, with M paying attention to every word they both uttered. When the rapport from the Klath’aria appeared and was read aloud – ‘all Autons disabled, mission successfully completed’, everyone in the room cheered. Everyone except for him and River, because honestly they were too knackered to do anything other than sit and accept all the pats on the back they got. When bottles of champagne were opened and the crowd in the room started to loosen their ties and crack bad jokes about aliens, he saw River sneaking out of there. He followed her – as usually. She seemed pleasantly surprised that he noticed her departure. When he asked her where she’s going, she merely shrugged and said that she has to catch a cab. ‘Walk with me?’ she asked.

So here they are now – standing under the morning sky, waiting for River’s cab. Except it’s not really a cab. They’re waiting for the Clerics’ ship to pick her up. She’s standing next to him, eyes trained at the sky, looking for something there. She seems to be miles away from him, already in a different world.

\- So... – he clears his throat. – What’s next?

\- Excuse me? – she asks, clearly startled by his question – and his presence.

\- What’s happening with you? Where are you going?

\- Back to prison for now. – she says. – There’ll be a hearing tomorrow, discussing my role in this mission. We’ll see if it’s enough to get me out this time.

She sends a sad smile his way. There’s something in his throat, sitting there heavily, numbing his tongue, making it impossible to speak. What is he supposed to say? If there are appropriate words in this situation, he cannot find them. He knows that he hates it – he hates the idea of her in prison. The mere thought of her in a cage, put behind the bars is wrong. He wishes he could do something and change it.

(He knows he can’t.)

\- Don’t worry about me. – she suddenly says, voice soft and full of affection. – I’ll be fine.

He nods his head. He has no doubt that she’ll be fine, but he’d like to help her with that.

\- So what it’s like? – he asks to change the subject.

\- What? The prison? – she laughs. – These things don’t change that much, you know. A cell. Bars in the windows.

\- No! No! – he stutters. – I meant the space. The universe. What’s it like?

Her face softens when she hears the question, a genuine smile lights up her eyes.

\- Well, you tell me. – she replies. – You’ve been to the 52nd century. How was that for you?

\- Please. You took me to a bar to talk with a bald blue guy – she gasps in mock outrage – and then you let me get drunk. I don’t really remember anything about it. Except that some guy with tentacles tried to grab my ass.

\- You’re lucky it was your ass he tried to grab, not something else. – she giggles. – They’re not very careful when it comes to squeezing things, just so you know.

What is she talking- Oh.

\- Oh. – he grimaces. Her answering giggle is loud and contagious.

\- Yeah, oh it is! Imagine what you’d have to say to M!

He imagines telling M ‘sorry, but I cannot walk, because a guy with tentacles squeezed my balls a bit too hard’ and doubles over with laughter. River joins him and they both laugh until they’re breathless and dizzy. A quiet ‘beep’ coming from a bracelet around River’s wrist sobers them up.

\- Oh. My ride is here. – she says, voice suddenly dark. – They will beam me up any second now.

It suddenly gets more windy and the air around River starts to whirl, picking up dust and leaves from the ground. She looks up and then back at him. 

\- It’s been a pleasure, Mister Bond. – she smiles. – Hope you had as much fun as I had.

He doesn’t want her to go. He doesn’t want her to disappear from his life.

\- Wait! – he exclaims, she already half gone, there’s a pale image of her, surrounded by a cloud of smoke and dust. – Will I see you again?

She smiles – the annoyingly familiar Cheshire grin on her lips, eyes full of joy  – and replies with ‘spoilers’. And then she disappears.

He’s standing alone, looking at the spot she was only seconds ago, while the dust slowly settles on the ground. There are words stuck in his throat, words he did not say, words he cannot form.

It’s stupid, but the world suddenly feels a bit different.

xxx

When he sees her for the last time, it’s his chance to surprise her.

He’s in some forgotten by all the gods town, somewhere in The Middle East. It’s an early evening and the sun is slowly setting down, but the air is still sticky and hot, filled with dust that settles on everything. He’s weary of the never ending heat and sun and currently he’s in a dire need of a ice cold pint. Actually, cold anything will do. As long as it comes in a clean glass.

He’s walking down a quiet street, searching for the smallest hint saying where the nearest bar can be. One pint. That’s all. He just needs to relax before tomorrow and go through his plan again. Tomorrow morning he’s supposed to meet with his contact who claims to have invaluable information about yet another evil Russian plan to conquer the world. He snorts at that. As it turns out, River was right – Russians are his mortal enemy. They’re his Daleks, they just can’t leave him alone. He grins slightly at this: he cannot believe it and he’d never admit it out loud – and most certainly he wouldn’t admit it in front of M, but he misses River. Just a bit. She definitely made his life more interesting. Not that it hadn’t been interesting before she appeared in it with all the aliens and time travel, and her ridiculous hair. It was just even more interesting with her by his side. Or if he’s completely honest – and in this short moment of sappiness he is – it was him by her side. Without her he was completely useless. And it felt refreshing to be for once the damsel in distress. (Well, in his case it was a handsome secret agent in a bit of trouble.) And just as he’s wondering if maybe there’s a way to contact her and tell her that if she ever needs any help to save the universe, he is her guy to go to, she appears on the opposite side of the street. And it must be her, because one no else could appear in a cloud of smoke, with electricity crackling in the air around them. That and no one else has this much hair.

He walks towards her, quickly catching up with her.

\- River! There you are. I knew you’ll miss me! – he says. Because she must have missed him, right? That’s why she’s here, to catch up.

She turns around slowly, raking her eyes over his body.

\- Excuse me, do I know you? – she asks, dumbfounded. For the first time there’s not recognition in her eyes. She stands still, her position guarded, her right hand resting lightly on the gun strapped to her tight.

\- Oh. You don’t know who I am. – he asks her. She shakes her head in reply. She takes her hand from her gun and looks up at him, there’s a brief flash of sadness in her eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it arrived, replaced with a blank and emotionless expression he really doesn’t like to see in her eyes.

Okay, so that’s a bummer. It must be younger her then. Or something like that. What had she said? Time travel. Things happen in different order for all the people involved. It’s normal for her and he absolutely doesn’t feel disappointed that she doesn’t know him yet. It’s just... His heart suddenly feels really heavy in his chest. He swallows.

\- Listen – she says. – I am in a middle of something right now. Kind of in a hurry. I was supposed to end up in here, but 1273 years in the future. This wretched thing – she pokes her vortex manipulator – just won’t work right. Anyway, lovely meeting you. Need to run. There’s this big thing – well, there’ll be this big thing and I just cannot miss it!

She starts typing a new set of coordinates on the device on her wrist and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before she disappears from his eyes. And his life. Okay, it’s not the time to get overdramatic. Think, 007, think, think, think, thi-

\- Wait! – he shouts and places one of his hands on her arm, while looking for his wallet with the other. She looks mildly annoyed and about 30 seconds from smacking him, so he lets her arm go and gets his wallet from the back pocket of his trousers. – I have something for you. Just wait a second.

Let’s just hope he still has it with him and that she won’t shoot his hands off. There’s another irritated huff coming from River and she re-stars typing the coordinates to her manipulator. He digs through all the pockets in his wallet and there it is, finally. He takes the little card out – the very same one she’d handed to him on the party a few months back – and gives it to her. She scans it curiously for a second, a little frown between her eyebrows.

\- Am I supposed to understand what it means? – she asks.

\- Not yet. But in the future? I don’t know when, I can’t tell you anything else, because spoilers!

She says the last word with him. And gods, she’s smiling at him. He already feels better.

\- Now – he says. – Don’t you have a thing to get to? I’m sure they miss you there.

He knows he does.

\- Yes! – her smile widens, and her fingers are once again on the manipulator. – See, there’s an invasion waiting to happen and I really should be trying to stop it. – She pauses for a second, finger hovering mid-air, ready to press the button that will send her into the vortex. – I guess that I’ll see you again then.

\- You will. – he winks. – Goodbye, Miss Song.

He turns around, because he really doesn’t want to see her disappearing in front of him, not again, he’d much rather remember her smiling at him, excited to meet him again sometime in her future. He takes his first step away from her, but then he realises that there’s one thing he needs to say to her.

He wants to say it.

He turns around quickly – the air is already charged with electricity and she’s ready to go, when he says:

\- Oh, and the name is Bond. _James Bond._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaand it's done.  
> Chapter title from Queen's 'Killer Queen'.


End file.
